


forget-me-not

by farseandfolly



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged Up, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, University, daisuga - Freeform, florist shop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-01 17:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10195352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farseandfolly/pseuds/farseandfolly
Summary: In which Daichi's disinterest in the whole flower shop ideal is quelled by a particularly interesting customer.





	1. one

The tinkling of the bell above the wooden doorframe was commonplace; his grandfather's florist shop had the tendency to attract bustles on early Sunday mornings. Artificial colognes and perfumes choked the light floral smell of the space in stifling waves, and Daichi Sawamura (with deep jealously) noted that someone clearly had time to pick up a warm muffin and a coffee before he’d arrived.

Lucky bastard.

Of all his grandfather’s peculiarities, his insistence on opening the shop so early was the one met with the most distaste and confusion. The sky still looked as though it was painted delicately with strokes of oranges and pinks and purples, and Daichi hadn’t even had the time to pick up a coffee before he'd clocked in. 

Greeting new customers with a plastered smile, Daichi talks them through the basics ( _'Flowering plants on the left hand side, ferns and non-flowering plants on the right. Ornate pots and vases are in the back to your left, plant care and garden supplies are in the back to your right, and if you need any seeds or saplings, just let me know and I'll show you where to find them'_ ) answering questions he can handle and directing all the rest to his grandfather, who was more well-versed in the language of flowers and plants than anyone he’d ever met.  

Juggling customer needs and his constant glances towards the clock on the wall (for the sake of his sanity), he is wary of the excruciating pace at which the hands seem to tick. 

 

**//**

 

It is ten o'clock when Daichi has become preoccupied with a flamboyant pompous bastard of a customer, whose insistence on finding the perfect floral arrangement that 'screams fuck you' threatens to send him over the edge. 

He isn't paid enough for this. 

It doesn't take long for the conversation to turn one-sided, the man rattling off the necessary details and specificities as Daichi nods, furrowing his brow in mock understanding, despite his aversion to the discussion altogether. The requirements are, in truth, ridiculously specific and far fetched, especially for a small florist shop in Miyagi, and after explaining that the range of flowers sold were meant to be pleasant and not at all offensive, he directs the man to an alternative florist in Tokyo, who could more easily cater to his desires. 

It is only when the man leaves, striding out of the store and running a hand through his swooping brown hair - his gait self-aware and every bit intimidating - that Daichi feels as though he can breathe again. 

 

**//**

 

 Business was usually at it's slowest during mid - afternoon.

It was only to be expected; the air was far too hot and sticky around this time and most people within the area were probably beginning their lazy commute home. It is evidently the least excitement Daichi experiences on a daily basis, and today is no exception. The Rubik's cube that was usually kept in the left cabinet under the counter (for emergencies only) now flips in his hands, fingers skimming reds and yellows, blues and greens until the colours blur in front of his eyes and  Daichi feels slightly dizzy. Maybe it would be best for him to clock out; in five minutes he would've finished an hour more than his required six. 

However, the bell tinkles once more, and Daichi sighs loudly before standing to greet the customer, who was likely an old woman wandering the area for the evening. 

Except, when the door opens and the customer steps inside, Daichi realises that it is, in fact, not an old woman, but a boy. Leanly built, but a face that was structured much like his own, albeit slightly softer, in terms of age and maturity. 

He swallows, before smiling widely. 

_"Hi, welcome to Sawamura florists. . . "_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 yes sir  
> thanks for reading!  
> as always, any feedback, comments and kudos are appreciated :)


	2. two

 

 _Soft._  

It is the most appropriate word Daichi can find to describe the new customer, with his pale features, chestnut eyes and light (silvery; almost colourless) wisps of hair.  

It doesn't take long for him to make the usual introductions, explaining the shop layout as though it is simply second nature, words rolling off his tongue without so much as a second thought. It is evidently the boy's first time; he didn't wipe his feet on the welcome mat by the door (a practice all regulars knew to be standard, and was strictly upheld by his grandfather) and he treads softly around the space, exploring unfamiliar corners of potted succulents and flowering orchids with keen eyes and silent fascination. 

Their exchange had been brief, yet Daichi found himself longing for his company. 

To keep a watchful eye would be unnecessary, Daichi surmises, and so he sits at the counter, flipping the Rubik's cube just for the sake of seeming preoccupied, glancing up occasionally and meeting the customer's eyes with his own before quickly shifting his gaze back to the plastic in his hands. It is a tiring cycle, up and down and back again, and Daichi is relieved when his concentration is broken by the sound of clay and coins on marble. 

"Just these thanks," 

Daichi nods, sliding the money towards his side of the counter, before checking the prices on the potted lilies, a stray yawn slipping from his lips. 

"Long day?" 

The sudden attempt at conversation surprises Daichi (customers usually preferred to discourse with his grandfather, or not at all), but he offers a nod in spite of himself as he begins to wrap the pots in old newspaper. 

"Yeah. Some guy came in, giving a ridiculous amount of specificities for a floral arrangement that 'screams fuck you' -"

 "Red hawthorns." 

Daichi raises an eyebrow, confusion colouring his features. 

"What?" 

"Red hawthorns," The customer repeats, hoisting the pots in each arm as he grins, "They're really fiery and have these massive thorns, sounds like a big 'fuck you' to me," 

It's a good idea, of course, and Daichi inwardly chastises himself for not remembering the new shipment of hawthorn that his grandfather had been tending to in the garden for the past few weeks. He opens his mouth to thank the customer for the suggestion, but he's already made his way to the door, turning and smiling with a 'Later,' leaving his lips.

The bell rings lightly, and the door closes shut.  

It's four thirty, and Daichi is not as tired as he usually is. 

_**//** _

 

His brief nap is disturbed by his phone vibrating ceaselessly against his leg.

His eyes pry open, taking in the new lighting that has been cast over the room, the colours of the afternoon long gone and the night taking it's place. Daichi can smell the scent of the open bag of chips laying on his lap (Friday night necessities) and the TV casts a light glow against his face and the rest of the room. 

He fumbles for the phone, lazily accepting the call before lifting the device to his ear. 

"Uh, hello?" 

"Daichi?" 

 The other line is slightly muffled by static and the noise of oncoming trains, but Asahi Azumane's voice is as smooth (and laced with perpetual worry) as ever. 

"Ah, hey Asahi," Daichi says, instantly relaxing into the couch. 

"Hey, listen, your grandfather ordered a set of thirty medium terracotta pots by tomorrow, but I'm really not sure we'll finish them in time," 

"Have you called him?" 

"Yeah. Twice. He's not picking up," 

Daichi sighed, rubbing his forehead. While his grandfather was far beyond qualified in all areas of plant life, Asahi Azumane's deep-rooted patience and desire for perfection allowed him to excel in pottery and ceramics (plant pots, in particular, were his speciality). However, despite his evident talent, he had a habit for finishing commissions late - partly due to worry and over analysis, partly due to distractions in the form of his whirlwind of a boyfriend. His hiccups successfully cultivated his grandfather's worrisome tendencies, and it was up to Daichi to reassure him that the stock would be regenerated in time, and no, he was too popular of a shop to lose business due to the absence of terracotta pots. 

"When do you think they'll be finished?" Daichi asks, trying to keep the exasperation at the prospect of his inevitable reassurances out of his voice. He already has one worrisome to deal with, and he really doesn't need another. 

"Monday." 

 "Uh, okay. I'll let him know," 

"Thanks, I'll send someone over to drop them off in the morning. I'm really, really sorry," 

"No problem, just try not to let Noya become too much of a distraction," 

The call is finished quite soon afterwards, a hurried 'Don't know what you're talking about, oh well would you look at that there's my train, have a good night, Daichi' leaves Asahi on the other line as he abruptly hangs up. 

_8:30._

The sky is painted with deeper colours now, blacks and blues and purples, and the whirring of the cicadas is a comfort in the quiet space. His roommate, Hinata, hasn't returned home yet, so he relishes in the silence that is available to him, before the whirlwind of red hair and energy comes barrelling into the house, . 

Dropping his phone on the pillow beside him, Daichi pops a chip into his mouth and watches the man on the TV sell a cottage to an elderly woman. 

 

**//**

 

The weekend passes in a blur. 

He'd received the usual apology texts from Kuroo and Bokuto, which he ignored; it was their fault that he was spending break working part-time at the shop, and he was still sour that they'd left the incident with little to no repercussions.  

He'd also managed to finish up most of his studying and outstanding assignments for university, which had built up over the past few weeks due to his free time being spent at the florist shop. He isn't particularly worried though, they still have at least two weeks left of Easter break before the term begins again, and his life resumes as normal. 

Before he can register it, it is Monday morning again, and he's awoken by the ray of sunshine that passes across his face and threatens to blind him before he's even fully awake. 

He lazily trudges out to the kitchen, to find the cereal box left open on the counter, the dishes stacked haphazardly in the sink and chemically dyed, stray bits of Lucky Charms littering the floor, as well as a 'GOOD MORNING DAICHI - SAN :)' letter stuck to the fridge. Hinata's untidiness is a  regular occurrence, and Daichi again finds himself considering shutting off the internet before Hinata returns home as he collects the broom to sweep the mess from the floor. 

 

**//**

 

His day is _considerably_ less eventful that it had been last Friday. 

The regular Monday-morning drab clings onto every customer that enters before ten o'clock, their lazy movements choking the space with unwanted gloom and the smell of strong coffee. 

He longs to close his eyes and sleep, his brain growing increasingly frustrated with the continuous greetings and constant cycle, the tinkling bell only serving as a split second warning as to when he needs to break into a smile to greet someone new. 

It's eleven o'clock when the bell rings for what is surely the thousandth time, and Daichi is forced to glance at the door before greeting the customer, whose wispy hair catches the morning light, his pale arms carrying two medium terracotta pots. 

 _Soft_ , Daichi thinks. 


	3. three

"So, are you coming to help out, or what?" 

Daichi's initial fascination  (the boy has a light splay of freckles on his pale arms that carry themselves into the crook of his arms), is quickly extinguished by confusion. 

"Uh, what?" 

"Oh, so what?" The boy says, a lazy grin crossing his face, "Cat got your tongue? Come on,  _come on_ ," 

Daichi's reaction is instantaneous and without question, pushing back the chair with a loud screech before crossing the room, walking past the boy and out the door with a tinkle. The sun is blazing, filtering through the sakura trees, and he can briefly make out Asahi's ( _Asahi's_ ) old red pickup truck - twelve terracotta pots laid neatly in the back - parked on the curb outside. 

If he was confused before, it's nothing compared to now. 

Slowly, he makes his way to the truck, taking the pots - two at a time - out of the cargo bed. They are beautiful, Asahi has truly outdone himself this time, and the intricate wave-like design etched into the surface of the red clay almost makes up for the tardiness of his delivery. 

He hears the footsteps on the pavement gradually increasing behind him, sneakers on concrete, and he cranes his neck backwards slightly. 

"Asahi's truck?" 

"Yeah, I'm on delivery duty today and I don't exactly have a car," 

"Ah, so you work with him, then? Pottery too?" 

"Well," The boy laughs lightly, "It's definitely a work in progress. Mostly I use his studio for practice, in between school and stuff, and make some extra cash with deliveries around town,"

"Poor university student on a weekly ramen budget?" 

"A little harsh, don't you think?" The boy chuckles, mock hurt crossing his face as he turns back to the shop.

Daichi wonders how his wisps of hair catch the light so perfectly, like little dream things. 

 

**_//_ **

 

"Why didn't you tell me about your new delivery guy?" 

The question is abrupt, albeit unexpected, but it's been nagging at his mind for the past five hours _at least_ , and Daichi has nothing better to do than to pace around his apartment and drown out the sounds of Hinata and Kageyama playing the Wii over in the living room. The revving of engines and resounding ' _bing_ ' of the collection of coins threatens to drown Asahi on the other line, and forces Daichi to relocate to the front door and stand on the welcome mat. 

"New delivery guy?" Asahi asks. 

"Yeah," He sighs, standing with his back against the door, "Um, light-haired, delivered the pots this morning?" 

"Oh, Suga."

 _Suga_. 

 It sounds almost comforting, suiting the features of the boy almost impeccably, to the point where Daichi couldn't have imagined him being called anything else. 

"Suga," 

"Mhm," Asahi affirms, "That's him. Oh, and by the way, your grandfather asked for a set of saucers a while back and I managed to finish yesterday, so I'll send those over tomorrow afternoon, around then," 

"Uh, yeah," Daichi responds, "Thanks," 

"See you," 

The line goes dead, and Daichi trudges out to the living room, the roars of engines from the television filling the space in his head once more. 

 

**_//_ **

 March 30th is a ' _Day Of Firsts_ ' for Daichi Sawamura.

It begins when he wakes up suddenly in a sizeable pool of sweat, his cotton teeshirt clinging to him in the most uncomfortable of places. It's truly disgusting, and while Daichi is used to vigorous perspiration (he was the captain of his volleyball team back in high school), nightly sweating of this proportion is a territory he really doesn't want to spend much time in. It's the first time he's ever awoken feeling like he's sprinted a marathon on the sun and back - and then some. 

It is the first time that he experiences the powerful desire to hurtle himself off of the bus during the commute to work, the scent of mingling body odour threatening to choke and swallow him whole, his clammy hands slipping down the stanchion with every sudden lurch and pothole, the sweat under his arms so glaringly obnoxious that it might as well have gained sentience and walked straight off of his body. 

It is also the first time that he arrives to work half an hour late (he anticipates the lecture that is surely to come), and is greeted by the boy - Suga - who sits languidly in Daichi's chair, and, quite frankly, doesn't seem to be faring much better than the latter. He calls a greeting to no one in particular, before wiping his shoes on the mat.

"Oi," Daichi says, shuffling across the room to the counter, unable to prevent the growing grin on his face. 

"You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome," 

"I do try my best," 

After successfully moving an adamant boy ( _'But I'm a guest,'_ ) from his spot behind the counter, he regards the clock on the wall wearily, before reaching into his backpack and  retrieving two bottles of ice water from his back pouch, sliding one across the surface towards Suga.

"Peace offering."

He takes it gratefully, offering a light smile before opening the cap with a light 'snap' of plastic, immediately placing the nozzle to his lips, the darker pink in the centre softly fading out into the lightest of pinks at the curvature of his smile. 

There is a peaceful silence between them now, the clock on the wall rhythmically ticking, the whirring of the fan filling the space with white noise. He likes this, he is at ease. 

Suga downs half the bottle in one go, separating the nozzle from his mouth and breathing heavily. 

"So," He says, in between pants, "I gave the saucers to your grandfather already. I'm just loitering at this point, I think, maybe I'll head out,"

"Wait," Daichi stutters impetuously, regarding the clock on the wall once more. "Wait, want to go get some ice cream?" 

"Ice cream?" 

"Yeah, it's pretty hot, and there's - there's a convenience store that sells these stupid lollies - really, it's no big deal, you can forget about it - "

Suga laughs, a light tinkle diffusing into the muggy atmosphere. 

"You usually ramble like this?" 

"What?"

"Yes, I'd like to go get some ice cream." 

 

 

//

 

"You know what I realised, florist guy?" 

"Mm?" 

"I don't know your name," 

"Oh?"

"Yeah," 

"I'm Daichi." 

" _Daichi,_ " 

"Yep, that's me," 

"I like it." 

"Thanks?" 

"Don't sound like that," 

"Sorry, sorry. What's your name?" 

"Suga."

" _Suga_ ," 

"Mhm," 

"I like it," 

"Thanks." 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and chapter three!  
> woo!


	4. four

For Daichi Sawamura, a decided marabout and recluse, (according to Bokuto, bullshitter extraordinaire) one-on-one gatherings were uncomfortable affairs which were usually avoided in favor of spending his days flipping through the various Home and Garden channels with a family sized bag of sour cream and onion chips. 

It is because of this fact that Daichi surmises that his current situation, sitting on a sidewalk eating lollies with a (particularly attractive)  _stranger_ , is quite odd, albeit unusually comforting. 

Suga is talkative, he discovers, but not annoyingly so. His voice is gentle and soft, much like his wisps of hair and skin of porcelain, crafted with the lightest of hands and smoothest of fingers. His questions are curious, and his interest in flowers is quickly made known through his positive comments about the shop. 

His favourite flowers are white lilies, but he cannot plant to save his life, and his thumbs are the very opposite of green. He also enjoys sunflowers and dandelions, but strongly believes that magnolias are the most unsightly things the world has to offer, next to carnations. 

"Do you like working at the shop?" 

Daichi snorts. 

"No." 

"Why not?"

"Flowers aren't my thing. Allergies, amongst other things." 

"You could always try pills." 

"It would make sense if I were around flowers all the time, and I'm not going to be much longer, I'm not bound to the shop anymore once the semester starts."

There is a brief silence. 

"Pity," Suga mumbles. 

"Pardon?" 

"It's a pity, Daichi," He sighs, drumming his heels against the road, "Because having you working at the shop gives me more of a reason to come." 

Daichi flushes and eats his popsicle.

 

**_//_ **

 

They begin the walk back to the shop a few hours later, soon after Daichi becomes aware of the hour, and slaps a hand to his forehead, before standing and offering a hand to help Suga from the pavement. 

His hands were warm and sticky. 

The evening is significantly cooler than the afternoon before it, streaks of lavender and grey and purple blanketing over the two boys who are too preoccupied with conversation to consider the time, or their recent acquaintanceship. 

"So volleyball, huh?" 

"Yep, captain in my third year," Daichi laughs, "I was pretty committed, too." 

"And you've got the thighs to prove it _,_ " 

"Suga!" 

Chuckles are scattered, but soon interrupted, as Daichi's phone vibrates in his back pocket. He fumbles for it, slipping it in front of his face in a swift motion, bracing himself for the caller ID that would warn of his grandfather's imminent lecture about responsibility. 

Except, the caller ID is not of his grandfather, but of Bokuto Koutarou, and the impressive amount of chins that he kept stored under his jaw. 

Daichi quickly shuts off his phone. 

His phone buzzes again almost seconds later. 

"So, are you gonna answer, or?" 

"I'd rather not." 

Suga casts him a sideway glance, and he swiftly flips the switch to silent, before shoving the phone into his pocket once more. 

 

 

**_//_ **

 

 

 " _Donuts._ " 

"Yes! In my grandfather's car!"  

Suga raises an eyebrow.

"Did you not hear the part about how they were doing donuts in the elementary school parking lot in my grandfather's car, or should I just retell the story?" 

"And then what happened?" 

"It crashed!" 

"Ah," Suga clicks his fingers, "There it is." 

"Yes! There it is! And, since I'm partly responsible for giving both Kuroo and Bokuto the keys in the first place,  _and_  because I don't have enough money for repairs -

"You are, after all, a poor university student on a weekly ramen budget,"

" - I'm working at the shop until the semester begins again! As compensation for their nonsense!" 

"Why would you give them the keys?" 

 _"They said they were going to buy chips_ ," 

 "You, sir, seem to have an issue with trusting the right people,"

"It's hardly an issue." 

"Sounds like one to me," 

"Well, I trust you, don't I?" 

"Touché, Captain," 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my lil boys ;')  
> sorry about the uneven gap between posting, I have exams coming up and my computer went in for servicing. hopefully I'll be able to update more smoothly from now on.  
> as always, comments, kudos and any feedback is appreciated! :)

**Author's Note:**

> so this is going to be my first multi-chapter :)!  
> I'm going to be pretty busy over the next few months, but I'm aiming for at least 5 chapters in all.  
> I have an idea as to where I'd like this to go, so finger's crossed, and I know it's pretty short so hopefully the next few will be a bit more lengthy.  
> any feedback, comments or kudos would be appreciated!  
> thanks so much!  
> 


End file.
